Truth and Justice

Warnings for this chapter: Angst, Language, WIP.
SPOILERS: All manga, all anime, L's true name, Another Note, Law and Right.

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Truth and Justice

Chapter 16: Climate

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Sex was something that L was reluctant about, for once, but Light always knew just the right ways to touch him, to tease him, until he gave in. L had to admit that it felt pretty damn good, when Light was coaxing him into sex, but at the same time, he worried for his lover's mental state.

When all was said and done, when they were curled together in bed, slicked with drying sweat and exhaustion, L pushed Light's hair out of the way, gazed into his eyes.

"I'm fine," there was a soft smile accompanying it. "It'll be harder when you take me, but making love to you doesn't bring back any memories. At least, not bad ones."

"I still worry," L smiled softly, leaning in for a soft kiss.

"I know, but even if something bad happened, I would have you right here and that's the most powerful thing against my fears, my memories," Light promised, legs tangling with L's.

When he woke from the nap that they settled into, Light didn't flinch or jump. Instead, he rose slowly from the fog of sleep, comforted by those bare arms against his own. He groaned softly, nuzzling his face into L's chest as he woke. The fingers threading through his hair roused him a bit further, until he was leaning up to brush a chaste kiss to L's lips before rising.

"I love you," L nearly whispered.

Light paused, smiled warmly. "I love you, too," he came close again, took L's face in his hands, brushed another soft kiss to his lips.

Life was a wonderful, sweet thing. Light felt as if he had a new appreciation for it and met each coming obstacle with increasing calm. It was as if he carried a small piece of Mu with him.

If that was so, it pleased him. It gave him the peace within to survive the press conferences, the questions, the accusations. The serenity that filled him was subliminal and it wasn't long before the media was singing the praises of the "reformed Kira".

It helped, Light supposed, that he condemned his past actions at every turn. Having L at his side didn't hurt. Nor did Aizawa's support, Mogi's, Matsuda's. Even Near's.

Still, there were shadows lurking beneath the surface. Knives made him uneasy, suede or worn leather would make him shudder. There was a pain, a panic, bubbling just beneath the surface.

In the end, that served him well, too. At a press conference, a woman came at him, brandishing a knife. He had just stepped away from the podium, he was open, vulnerable, and she nearly sliced his neck open.

He fell, scrambled away, pressing his hand to his neck and falling into a flashback. He was gasping, trembling, struggling away from anyone that so much as touched him. The media cameras had not been fended off quickly enough to avoid such humiliating images reaching the public.

Thankfully, Mogi had been on hand to restrain him in a bear hug, get him away from prying eyes and let him loose. It took him nearly twenty minutes to calm once they were alone and by that time, L had arrived.

He went home, rested, and when that was done, he talked. They sat next to each other, watched the footage of his panic attack on the evening news, and Light went over what happened, how, why. He sought out L's hand, his comfort, and leaned on him.

Alone, they were weak. Together, strong. It made all the difference, they knew, to have love. That night, they gave Mello a call. He claimed to be fine, and it comforted them both to know that he was at Wammy's House. Safe.

Safe. The way Light felt in his lover's arms, the way Mu had felt, the feeling he knew he gave his husband. The way those butterflies would settle when nerves were clawing towards the surface.

The panic attack turned out to be a good thing, earning the public's sympathy. A week later, Light agreed to a short interview with Takada Kiyomi. She had been a Kira supporter, he knew, and he made it a point to refute her pro-Kira views at every turn.

In the end, the media made him into something of a saint, though the idea disturbed him a little. He was broken, damaged. Loved, despite his massive imperfections, but certainly no saint. He was a murderer, but he was a beloved murderer.

It was a strange thing to come to terms with, and in the end, it was L's words that allowed him to accept it.

"You are the evil that has turned to the good. You are the example that is set for all those who have committed crimes, and in truth, Light, you are their hope. If you, someone who has murdered countless times, can reform, can become good, then there is hope for any criminal," L had said one evening as they lay, curled together in bed, talking about it. About everything.

About the kidnapping, the rape, the media. The panic attacks that were back with a disturbing frequency. They took him by surprise most of the time, buckled his knees and sent him to the floor before he could steel himself against it.

Kira was haunted by his past, wasn't that punishment enough? That was the question the media posed, and the polls all showed that Japan was in firm agreement. Indeed, the entire world seemed to agree, and several countries publicly announced their support for both L's.

Two months later, when the world as a whole began focusing more on rehabilitation that punishment, Light was struck by the irony of it all. Perhaps this shift in the paradigm would save more lives than even he had taken.

He made it a point to call a press conference, to thank the peoples of the world for showing such faith in him. For showing such faith in their fellow man, in the belief that rehabilitation really was possible. He stressed that without L, he would never have shaken the idea that what he had done as Kira was right. He never would have grown into the man he was. It was the mentorship, the companionship, that had freed him from the chains of Kira's power.

It was that simple, personal connection that had showed him all he needed to know and more. The emotional bond was what lay at the core of his own reformation.

Life was beginning to look up again. They were visiting his mother every week on Sunday, he was able to walk the streets without quite so much worry. He didn't make a habit of that, though, because it tended to thrust memories in his face. Memories that caused panic attacks or, once in a while, fits of grief.

Never before had his regret for what he'd done struck him quite so strongly. When he walked the streets, thought of how he had been so close to killing the man that meant everything to him. He'd pause, right there in the middle of the sidewalk, turn his gaze to the sky and close his eyes as the wave of grief washed over him. Sometimes, the tears would come, the bells would ring.

When it rained, he went up to the rooftop, knelt, spread his arms and put his face to the sky. Lost himself in the torrent, in the grief that welled up inside him from that fateful day. He was grateful, so grateful that he had been raped and the irony of it only made the tears fall faster.

L would join him quietly, kneeling behind him, chest to back, and hold him. His face in Light's neck, the rain soaking them to the bone as they both mourned the pain of the past. It was always followed by warm towels, a long sleep and lazy, affectionate love-making when they woke.

Somehow, a photo of them on the roof managed to surface, but it was another silhouette, highlighted slightly with color to separate the forms. The negatives wound up in their mailbox. The same woman that had taken the pictures before, and this new print was added to their collection.

Light became the public face of L, replacing that single, gothic letter. As months edged up on a year, Light was almost to the state he'd been, before the kidnapping.

Then, one day, Mello turned up on their doorstep. Mello, calmly ringing the equivalent of a doorbell, was never a good thing.

He moved slowly, like he were trapped underwater as he entered the main living area, lowered into a seat. He waited until both Light and L were giving him their full attention before he spoke. "It's Watari. He's sick. Dying."

When the silence threatened to last forever, Mello continued. "Leukemia, they said. He'd been keeping it under wraps for a few months now, but it won't be long. Roger sent me to get you," Mello's gaze settled on L's, shifted to Light's. "Watari asked for his sons."

Light's fingers threaded with L's as their hands clamped together, as L swallowed heavily.

"Thank you," Light said softly, "for coming all this way to tell us. We should return together. When is your return flight?"

"Whenever yours is," Mello shook his head. "It would be more... discrete to take the jet, anyway. Considering your public status."

"Yeah. Could you let Aiber know we'll be flying out to wherever it is?" Light's gaze shifted to L then and Mello took the hint, made himself scarce while he arranged for transportation.

"Watari..." L's gaze was on his toes.

"Has lived a long, full, happy life," Light replied, then pulled L to him. For once, he was doing the comforting, being the support, the rock in the hard weather. "You'll be able to say goodbye. It's easier if you can say goodbye," he whispered, pressing his face into L's hair, closing his eyes as he felt the first tremor run through L's form.

He cried as much from shock as from grief. The tears that streaked down L's face were as foreign and uncontrollable as the ones he had shed for Light, not so long ago. Light held onto him until the tears had exhausted him, until his sobs had turned to shivers and then, he'd drawn a blanket around them both. Kept holding on.

It wasn't until it was time for them to leave that he finally let go, retreated to the bedroom to pack for both of them. Everything was a blur for L, and during the flight he gazed blankly at his own feet. The arm slung over his shoulders felt as if it were holding another crying fit at bay.

Watari couldn't die, could he? The man that had, without fail, supported and guided L surely could not be mortal. He felt more tears, numb tears, sliding from his eyes.

He was going to have to say goodbye, and this time, it would be forever. He leaned into Light's embrace and before he knew it, was sobbing again. At some point, he sobbed himself into unconsciousness.

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A/N: Oi, this chapter was hard to write! I ended up writing it twice, it was being such a pain. I hope it's good! And I hope grieving!L isn't too weird.

And if you haven't seen L Change the WorLd yet, you should! Someone put the fansubs up on Youtube already. =3 It's amazing and beautiful and totally bittersweet.

Anyway, I hope this chapter isn't incoherent or anything, because I finished writing it and running it through a spell check while highly exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster that the movie put me through. ^^; I'm so weak for bittersweet movies.

Selim: Ah! I'm trying to update quickly! XD But life likes to interrupt. Movies do, too. And yeah, we're still not to the end yet. Sadly, it seems that my mind just won't release this whole storyline from my head. I'm already planning yet another fic to fit into the series. The next one will be a companion fic, focusing on the Matt/Mello relationship. How it came to be, and how Mello picks up the pieces after Matt is uncovered as Kira.